Chasing Ghosts With Alcohol
by liam22
Summary: [Sequel to I Guess We Really Need To Move On] He doesn't call her when he is sober. HC


**Title: **Chasing Ghosts With Alcohol  
**Pairing: **House/Cameron  
**Prompt: **#2.49 - Listen  
**Word Count: **871 words  
**Rating: **Teen  
**Summary: **He doesn't call her when he's sober. Sequel to I Guess We Really Need To Move On.  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own House MD 

He doesn't call her when he's sober. But, Cameron can understand that.

It's everything else that she doesn't understand: like why he is calling in the first place. It had been about a year since she had left that life behind, left him behind, and here he is calling her, as if she is just down the road from him. She's not even sure how he got her number, but that he was able to somehow get it doesn't surprise her as much as it should. She knows him much better than that. She didn't work for him for three years without picking up on that little nuance of his personality.

He talks as if she never left, as if she is just across town instead of across the country, as if they were actually more than co-workers. They touch all sorts of subjects: his inability to keep fellows, her new boss's absentminded tendencies, and his favorite, new pranks on Cuddy and Wilson. It is nice, the whole talking, well until Cameron realizes how much alcohol he must have drunk to pick up that phone.

At first she is too surprised by the fact that he is actually calling at all to notice. But then he calls again, and it doesn't take her long to recognize the subtle slurring in his voice. She doesn't want to think about the implications, but it figures that he has to be buzzed for them to have semi-normal conversations.

She would rather just enjoy the moments for what they are. Cameron knows she should be more irked than she is, but her annoyance is fighting a losing battle with the part of her that just wants to keep him on the phone a bit longer.

The more he calls, the more apprehensive she gets about it. She's grown to enjoy it more than she should, especially since she knows that any day now he might decide to stop calling. She has this sinking feeling that she is only waiting for the day when she will no longer be enough.

The more alcohol he drinks, the more interesting their conversations become. He'll get bored of talking about his idiotic clinic patients and start to talk about something else. It becomes a game to him: how far can he push her before she hangs up.

So, of course, she pushes back. (He will ask what color her underwear is and she will respond by asking why he became a doctor. She knows she surprises him when she actually answers, so much that he actually answers her as well.) She's never been one to say 'no' to a game before, especially not one this fun.

His mocking becomes heavily laced with innuendo and she never hesitates to return it. She revels in the excitement of it all, their dirty little secret. There's a tension there that wasn't before, and they both know they've crossed a line.

" Well, jumped past and kept going is more accurate," she thinks as she hears his quiet groan on the other end of the line and tries to muffle and her answering whimper.

She hangs up before they go too far (although she might already be too late) and only then does she return to her senses. Suddenly, she's never been so glad she moved. If she was still in Princeton, well then, they would both be in a lot of trouble. The kind of trouble that would lead to living rooms strewed with hastily removed clothing (the exact kind of trouble she always longs for after she hangs up).

He wants it too, which is why he takes another drink and calls her again the next night.

But then he remembers how far away she sounds. She's not right across town anymore; he managed to drive her right across the country.

She wouldn't have put this distance between them if it wasn't for him. Thoughts of inadequacy rain down on him, only to be chased away with more alcohol and the sound of her laugh, slightly fuzzy over the phone. When he hangs up, he'll have a smile on his face that cannot be fully attributed to the scotch.

He doesn't call the next night, even though he wants to hear her voice. He wants something more, something he can't vocalize. He just wants. These phone calls were all well and good, but what would happen if he actually saw here again.

She waits by the phone, considering opening up a bottle of wine to chase away her own fears. The silence feels lonelier than she expected and she should have seen this coming. All good things come to an end after all. But, the heavy knock on the door shakes the thought of drowning her sorrows from her head. Alcohol isn't what she needs right now.

She doesn't need to finish that thought as she opens the door to find him standing on the other side.

He doesn't call her when he is sober. But when he shows up at her doorstep late one night, that is the last thought from their minds


End file.
